Winnetou, the Apache Knight by Karl Friedrich May (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

pricked first his son’s wrist, holding it over the cup which NschoTschi had brought. A tiny drop of blood fell into it, and the chief set it aside. Then he repeated the proceeding with me, and a tiny drop of my blood fell into the other cup. Winnetou took the cup containing my blood in his hand, and I received the one with his. Then Intschu-Tschuna said: “Life dwells in the blood. The souls of these two young men shall mingle till there is but one soul in them. Old Shatterhand’s thoughts shall be Winnetou’s thoughts, and what Winnetou wills that shall also be the will of Old Shatterhand. Drink!” I raised my cup as Winnetou raised his. It was Rio Pecos water, to which the single drop of blood in it imparted no taste. As we set down the empty cups the chief took my hand and said:” Thou art now the son of my flesh equally with Winnetou, and a warrior of our people. The renown of thy deeds shall be quickly known everywhere, and no other warrior shall surpass thee. Thou art a chief of the Apaches, and all branches of our people shall honor thee as such.”

This was indeed rapid advancement - from a young, newly graduated collegiate to a chief of the Apaches; and I could not help fancying the faces of my friends at home if they could see me now. And yet, strange and wild as was the life around me, these fine red men were far more congenial to me than many of my former associates.

How completely the words of Intschu-Tschuna were fulfilled that Winnetou and I should be but one soul in two bodies! We grew to understand each other without a word; we had but to look at each other to know what we desired and felt, and there was never the slightest disagreement between us. But I suspect this was less because we had drunk one another’s blood than because there was naturally a strong attraction and sympathy between us; and never again shall I love another friend as I loved my brave Apache brother, my true-hearted Winnetou!

As Intschu-Tschuna spoke the last words all the Apaches had risen, even the children, to shout a loud, applauding ” How!” Then the chief added: “Now is the new, the living Kleki-Petrah received among us, and we can lay the dead in his grave. My brothers may now do this.” This was spoken to the Indians who had built the tomb. I asked for a few minutes’ delay, and nodded to Sam Hawkins, Dick Stone, and Will Parker to come up; with these standing by me I said an Our Father , a Hail Mary , and a De Profundis over the coffin. Then was the body of the former atheist and revolutionist, and at last the penitent and missionary, lowered into the middle of the tomb, which the Indians sealed to await the dawn of that new day of which Intschu-Tschuna had spoken.

This was my first experience of a burial ceremony among savages, and it deeply impressed me. I was touched by the half perception of truth which appeared in the chief’s words. Especially was I moved by the longing for the coming of one who was to deliver them, which rang in these wordfi, - a longing like that of the people of Israel as they waited for the Messias.

While the grave was closing the Indians’ death-chant was sung again, and it sank into silence when the last stone was placed; the Apaches rose from their places, and the whole great assembly seemed to melt away in the stillness broken only by the fall of their moccasins, the rustling of the leaves, and the ripple of the Rio Pecos. NschoTschi came from among the women and stood at her father’s right hand, Winnetou’s arm lay across my shoulders as he stood at his father’s other side, and Intschu-Tschuna had taken my right hand in his own. “You are my children, and I am happy in you,” he said. “I thank the Great Spirit that He has protected me through danger, and given me a strong, brave, faithful son, and my other children a brother to protect them when I am gone.”

“No, Intschu-Tschuna,” I said. “Rather should I thank Him for the love and kindness I find so far from home, and among a strange people.”

“They are your people now,” said NschoTschi quickly.

“And we are all happy and blest in one another,” said Winnetou.” All grateful for the happy ending of a story begun in sorrow and wrath. Come, my brother; let us go to the dwelling of our father Intschu-Tschuna. A new life has begun for us all today.”

And so we walked together to the great pueblo, silent and peaceful, though saddened by the solemn ceremony and parting from one the three Indians had loved so well.

Winnetou spoke truly: though the story of our meeting ended here, a new life had indeed begun; and unconscious of what lay before us we went home together, turning our backs on what had been, and setting our faces towards the future.